


Tradition

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Series: #lipsdoeswinterdrabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:40:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21663826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: Prompt- “I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you.”
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Series: #lipsdoeswinterdrabbles [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1285313
Kudos: 40





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> _Hello, all! I’m back on my bullsh*t again!_

You stared at the eldest Winchester plainly.  _Tradition_ , he’d said. Yeah, suuuuure. Tradition.

“I don’t care about tradition, you try and get me to kiss you under the mistletoe and I will punch you,“ you said, watching as he tied the mistletoe above the kitchen door.

“Oh, come on”, he groaned. “Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“Not on my lips, I can assure you.”

Sam snort-laughed from his spot at the table, obviously trying not to choke on his Cheerios. You smiled at the way he covered his mouth, his eyes glittering with humor at the way you talked to Dean.

Dean huffed. “Just you wait, Sammy. You’ll be thanking me when you get Eileen under this thing.”

Sam pointed at him with his spoon, mouth still full of cereal. “Hey, don’t act like this is for me. You’re the one who wants to get _her_ under the mistletoe.”

“And like I said, Winchester. It ain’t gonna happen. Tradition or no.”

* * *

Three days. Three days of Dean Winchester pouting when you’d reject his offer of a kiss under the mistletoe. He was a gentleman though, taking your “no” for what it was. He didn’t push, but he did consistently offer. It was flattering, really. Eileen would occasionally prod you at dinner, only to make you catch Dean staring. It was quickly becoming a _thing._

You’d had nearly enough of it- enough of the fluttery feeling in your gut every time he looked your way, the way he’d linger nearby all the time, and even the way he’d wet his lips at you. You had to end it.

That’s how you ended up under the mistletoe, shoulder leaned up against the door jamb.

“Hey, Dean,” you asked, voice still a little raspy from the night. He looked over, eyes trailing over your fuzzy robe and tousled hair. “C’mere.”

He rose slowly from his seat at the table, coffee and laptop forgotten as he made his way over to you. You stopped him with a hand as he towered over you, poised under the mistletoe now hanging over his head. His chest was warm under your hand, grey robe pulled closed around his waist. You patted him twice before speaking again, his eyes glittering in the bunker lights.

“Close your eyes.”

“Huh?” he asked, quite eloquently.

Your heart thudded in your ears. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” he said, not missing a beat.

“Then close your eyes.”

He took a long look at you before doing as he was told, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks as he waited.

“Why do you want to kiss me so bad?”

He smiled. “Because you’re beautiful.” He placed his hand over yours on his chest. It stung, and you could tell he could feel your hurt, so he clung onto you before you could pull away. “I mean, that’s not the only reason. Shit, I-” He started to peek, but you scolded him, his eyes falling shut once again.

“I wanna kiss you because you’re… you’re  _you._ I dunno. It’s… You’re smart, and you’re capable. You can shoot better than a lot of hunters I've ever met. That time in Arizona when that witch was kicking our asses? You were bleeding, and  _gorgeous._ You just grinned at her like a lunatic, blood smeared over your teeth like something feral and  _terrifying._ It was- I haven’t looked at you the same ever since. If you don’t feel the same, I-”

You leaned forward and kissed him, your smile making it difficult to kiss him like you really wanted to.

You pulled away, watching as his eyes tried to focus on your beaming face. “Oh, I like you too, you idiot.” You dove in for another kiss, feeling his own smile against your lips.


End file.
